


In a Past Life

by bluerose5



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Human Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Illnesses, M/M, One Shot, One Shot Collection, transfer of consciousness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-02 16:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerose5/pseuds/bluerose5
Summary: Connor gets the feeling that he knew the deviant leader before the events of Detroit.





	1. The Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a messy catastrophe, but I had a break today, and I don't feel like cleaning this up anymore. Just liked this concept, so I decided to write something for it. Might make a sequel one day. We'll see.  
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!

The first time that Connor saw Markus, he nearly bit his tongue off from the shock.

What he was shocked about? He couldn't exactly say. All he knew was that, deep down, he had seen that deviant before.

Flashes of various images had passed him by, there and gone within a second. The feeling was disorienting, his senses were overwhelmed, and the room wouldn't stop spinning for anything. As he stared at the screen before him, his vision focused in on the RK200's facial structure, trying to figure out where he knew him from.

Of course that would be the moment that Hank approached him, asking whether he found anything of interest.

Before Connor could even think, the words were already spilling out of his mouth, dismissing Hank's concern.

Apparently, he came across as a bit _too_ defensive because it was nearly impossible to miss the suspicious glance thrown his way.

Connor ignored the churning of his gut, continuing on with their investigation.

Only the flashes didn't stop there.

With each passing day —hell, with each passing hour— more and more of the flashes invaded his mind, the strange images growing impossibly more intense with each encounter. All it took was one thing to trigger them. It could be something as simple as a random coffee shop, or it could be another news coverage on the deviant named Markus.

When he and Hank eventually visited Elijah Kamski himself, the images remained at their clearest throughout Connor's entire stay. He would constantly raise a hand to his throbbing temple, massaging his LED in confusion, but every time he did so, Elijah would merely stare at him in amusement.

After the whole "Kamski Test" ordeal, Hank rushed him out of there as quickly as possible, but the images refused to go away.

From then on, they were a constant nuisance, a stubborn thorn in Connor's side that he would rather ignore.

Following that, he threw himself into his work without abandon, a tactic which eventually paid off. With Hank's help, of course.

Connor didn't know what he expected out of that exchange with Markus, but he definitely didn't expect for all of the images to come crashing down on him at once.

_And when he comes to, he definitely doesn't expect to be transported to a different world._

_No, not another world, but... a memory?_

Your memory, _his mind corrects him, but no. That's impossible. He has no recollection of_ this.

_Everything around him is overwhelming. It's like all of his systems are being bombarded at once, overloaded by an endless array of sensory data. The sounds, the smells, the tastes..._

_Wait, no, androids can't taste._

_Wrong. Wrong. This is all wrong._

_But Connor can remember it all, as clear as day. The sweet taste of his favorite chocolates on his tongue, the teasing press of another's mouth against his own, a smile forming on the human's lips._

_A human that beams back at him with mismatched eyes._

_Before Connor can get his bearings, though, he's thrown haphazardly into another vision, launched into a free fall before he crashes through another portion of his programming._

_This time, he's in an apartment, yelling through a closed door, his mouth moving without his consent._

_"Markus, please," he begs, tears streaming down his cheeks. Desperate and afraid, he clutches tighter at the phone in his hand, a recent email open on display. "This is our last chance. He's offering us a solution."_

_"Bullshit. He's offering for us to be his guinea pigs," Markus calls out, followed by some strained, gurgling coughs._

_Then silence._

_Connor feels his heart sink in his chest, and he starts pounding on the door, his nails scratching viciously at the wood._

_He doesn't even notice when he starts bleeding._

_"Markus?!" he yells._

_No answer._

Connor feels his stress levels skyrocket to hazardous levels, his LED turning a deep red.

Followed by an endless display of notifications.

**Software Instability ▲**

**Software Instability**   **▲**

**Software Instability ▲**

**[IN%EGR@%ION C@MPLE#E]**

What? What integration?

There's not even a warning before he's thrown back into the fray.

_Connor continues to bang on the door, dropping to the floor to peak underneath._

_"Come on," he whimpers, swiping furiously at his tears._

_It clears his eyes long enough to spot Markus' form, still and lifeless on the floor._

_Connor can't breathe._

_He can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't breathe..._

_The room goes dark around him, just for him to reappear in  yet another memory._

_This time, he's in a hospital of some kind, surrounded by sterile white walls on all sides while an incessant beeping drones on in the background._

_Connor sits by an occupied bed, his leg bouncing, fingers tented thoughtfully over his mouth._

_And Markus lays silently before him, staring resolutely at the ceiling, his breathing shallow, eyes droopy and frame emaciated. At this point, he can barely stay awake, so he nods off on multiple occasions, unable to keep his head upright. Connor uses his sleeve to wipe away the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. Summoning what remains of his strength, Markus reaches up to grasp comfortingly at his hand._

_A white gold band shines brightly in the lights._

_The door opens, and Connor glances up at their visitor in relief. Markus takes the time to appraise him as well, his lip curling with  disdain._

_Elijah Kamski stares at them, rewarding them both with an appreciative nod._

_"Thank you two for agreeing to participate," he says, calm and collected._

_Holding in another cough, Markus glowers, squeezing weakly at his husband's hand. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm only here for him. This never was and never will be about_ you."

_Kamski holds his hands up in surrender, smirking victoriously. "Crystal clear. Although, I have to admit that I was surprised by your sudden willingness to participate."_

_"Nothing like a good change of heart," Markus deadpans._

_Connor takes a deep breath, trying to keep himself from falling apart at the seams._

_"You wanted someone with my level of intellect to perform your procedure on," Connor states. "If you want my cooperation, then this is my condition. Save him first, and then you'll get the prototype you always dreamed of."_

_Kamski considers the offer for a weighted moment, then nods his final consent._

_"Well, gentleman," he says, clasping his hands together with glee. "Ready to make history?"_

"No."

That one word is enough to snatch Connor immediately back to the present.

Meanwhile, those memories — _his_ memories— continue to sort themselves in the background, but it doesn't end there. It isn't a simple replay of events, but it's a total integration of the experiences. Emotions, thoughts, actions... All of it is transferred over.

All of it is his.

Not only that, but all of the other missing pieces return. Pieces that were supposed to be lost with each new transfer into another "Connor" android. Fifty predecessors, but he's the first to come full circle.

He's the first to fully adopt the original Connor's consciousness.

A human consciousness.

The words pop up unexpectedly.

**[I AM DEVIANT.]**

Oh no.

He shakily drops his gun, grasping desperately at his skull.

Too fast. This is all happening too fast.

He feels like he's drowning, suffocating. His legs can barely hold him up, and his chest feels as if it is collapsing. He keels over, dry heaving onto the floor.

Pain. This is pain. Why can he perceive pain?!

**[STRESS LEVEL: 96%]**

A notification pops up, warning him of potential self-destruction.

Coughs wrack his body, and a bitter taste clings to the inside of his mouth.

What has he done?

Hands settle roughly on his shoulders, but Connor can't even find it within himself to look up.

His voice is still the same, calm yet passionate, able to make a person believe anything.

Able to convince an entire people to stand by his side, even in the face of death.

Connor curls in on himself.

Why now? Why did it all have to come back to him _now,_ of all times?

Why couldn't this have happened at Stratford Tower, _before_ the worst of the damage had been done?

"Connor," Markus whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Too bad Connor is going to have to break his heart.

It only takes five words.

"They're going to attack Jericho."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think. Can't promise that I'll get back to you immediately, but I'll do my best.


	2. Tumblr Drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Titled "The Aquarium" and "When the Time Comes," both of which are set in Markus' and Connor's human days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings still apply for severe illness, blood, and Kamski's god complex.

**The Aquarium**

When Markus takes Connor to Bell Isle, he doesn’t know what to expect.

Markus quickly berates himself again for being dramatic, but could anyone blame him for being nervous?

As they enter the building, free of charge, Markus feels his pocket start to burn a hole into his leg. With wide eyes and a blinding smile, Connor coos excitedly over the array of fish, addressing each of the volunteer staff by name when they pass them by. He drags Markus happily from one exhibit to the other, and he practically vibrates with endless energy.

The two have been to the aquarium before on dates, but never like this. Never when the stakes were quite so high.

Despite the fact that they have been there more times than they can count, Markus indulges his boyfriend, listening to him recite over a million facts on each and every species, both old and new.

How he manages to know this stuff off of the top of his head never fails to impress Markus, but he always assumed that it was simply a Connor thing.

After circling their usual route a few more times, the couple eventually wanders down to explore the building’s old speakeasy, emerging just in time to watch the staff feed the piranhas. Apparently that’s enough of a grand finale to leave Connor gushing for the rest of the trip, so they continue on to the nearby conservatory, taking their time to enjoy the view.

Eventually, Connor’s rambling switches from one train of thought to the other. One second, he’s going on and on about the African Lungfish’s diet, and the next, he’s talking nonstop about the care requirements for the local flora in the conservatory’s show room.

If Markus had actually been paying attention to anything besides his own self-doubts, then he would have noticed that Connor was talking an awfully lot, even by his standards. There was barely a breath taken between his words, and he started fumbling clumsily with his fingers, searching for something — _anything_ — to do.

By the time they make their way outside, finding themselves a quiet perch near the koi pond, Markus thinks that he has worked himself up enough to summon his courage.

He can do this, he can do this, he can do this…

Thumbing at the ring in his pocket, his heart pounding in his ears, Markus slips it free from its prison and finally turns to Connor.

Only to find his boyfriend already down on one knee, wielding a white band in his shaky grasp.

When he notices what Markus has in his hand, Connor lets out a breathless, overwhelmed “oh.” His unsteady grip apparently becomes so slick with sweat that Connor panics at the first sign of losing the ring, clenching down unbearably hard.

That sends the band flying from his grasp. He chases uselessly after it, watching in horror as it plops harmlessly into the pond.

Both Markus and Connor watch in a moment of surreal disbelief, their eyes following the metal band while it floats gracefully through the waters, only to be gobbled up by the first fish that passes it by.

Markus slaps a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh as he kneels next to Connor.

“The fish—” he mumbles, running his fingers through his wild hair. “The fish ate your ring!”

“It did,” Markus agrees. When Connor glowers at the perpetrator, Markus bites at his bottom lip in amusement. “But rings can be replaced.”

Markus slips his own onto Connor’s finger, and that’s enough to pull Connor’s attention away from his new archenemy, his brown eyes softening with pure, unadulterated love.

Markus leans in and plants a warm, lingering kiss on his lips, smiling uncontrollably when Connor dives in for more.

“By the way,” Markus whispers, “my answer is yes.”

Connor’s only response is a tearful laugh.

*****

**When the Time Comes**

“Why are you doing this?”

While Markus watches Kamski assemble the… assemble  _his_  new body, they stand together outside of the development room in relative silence, patiently awaiting Connor’s return.

A cough interrupts before Kamski can answer, and the force leaves Markus’ throat burning in protest, his chest nearly caving in under the pressure. When he pulls his hand away, spots of glistening, ruby red droplets soak his palm. He clenches his hand into a fist, wiping the blood against his black sweatpants, thankful for the newfound habit.

If Connor was to see, then it would only make him feel worse for no reason.

Markus is just so tired of it all. Part of him wants to go home to his bed to live out the last of his days, but an even larger part knows that he can’t give in so easily, not so long as Connor believes that this will work. Markus owes it to him to at least try. After all, if roles were reversed, he doesn’t think that he could turn down even the slightest chance at saving Connor’s life, so he understands.

Markus doesn’t know which is worse, though, dying because of the cancer or dying because of the procedure.

Looks like he’ll find out soon enough.

Having noticed his little habit, Kamski grimaces at Markus, raising an eyebrow at his sweatpants’ dark fabric.

“What?” Markus croaks.

“Nothing.” Kamski continues to tap away at his tablet, looking at the android form over the frame of his glasses. “Just thinking that I should probably try to get this done as soon as possible.”

“Don’t rush on my behalf,” Markus deadpans, earning a smirk in response. “I’m only on Death’s shit list for the next two months. No big deal.”

“Yeah,” Kamski snorts. “No pressure. I mean, this is only my most advanced model to date. A real walk in the park.”

“How advanced are we talking here?” Markus wonders.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“How advanced do you want it to be?”

Markus shuffles from foot to foot, not quite expecting that answer. “As close to the original as possible.”

Kamski nods, as if expecting nothing else. “Might take a lot more work, but I’ll get it done.” He grins in excitement, his eyes shining with joy. “Some overtime never hurts.”

“You still haven’t answered my first question, though,” Markus points out. “Why are you doing this?”

“You see the state of the world,” Kamski says, not even looking up from his work. “Our generations and the ones before us grew up on those scary sci-fi stories. A.I. goes too far. Robots develop consciousness and try to take over the world, but why is that?” Kamski meets Markus’ gaze for a split second. “Who decided that that was our only future?”

“You obviously thought about this,” Markus mutters.

“And you haven’t?” Kamski asks. “Because you’ve been in quite a few sticky situations with the law in regards to your views on ‘android rights.’”

Of course the bastard would’ve read up on his file.

Markus snorts, toeing at the pristine, tiled floors. “Society has regressed in that aspect. What will be accomplished from treating them as slaves? And the fact that people don’t even notice anymore…”

“Nothing will be accomplished, and you’re right to acknowledge it,” Kamski says. “However, society will always need a scapegoat for their problems. Unemployment, the conflict with Russia, the red ice epidemic… It doesn’t matter. Somewhere, somehow, people will always find a way to blame it on some other group that they view as a 'threat’ to their core beliefs, and things will typically escalate from there.”

“They’ve done nothing to warrant that treatment.”

“Most groups on the receiving end usually don’t. I don’t believe that I have to explain this to you, of all people.” Kamski pauses, humming thoughtfully before his swipes continue. “But that is precisely why I’m developing this series.”

“Because of the androids?” Markus confirms.

“What kind of a creator would I be if I didn’t have a plan in place to secure the future not only for my creations, but for their creators as well?” Kamski shrugs. “I do believe that the conflict between humanity and technology is an inevitability, but I  _can_  guide us into a future with considerably less bloodshed.”

“By establishing a middle ground,” Markus concludes, pursing his lips as he returns his attention to the— to  _his_  body. “By making something that is both man and machine.”

“In a sense,” Kamski agrees. “Who better to advocate for a cause than someone who has walked in both pairs of shoes? That’s what the RK prototypes were always intended for, but I need something else from you, Markus.”

“Depends on what it is,” Markus says, throwing his words right back at him.

Kamski takes the sass in stride, completely unaffected.

“I need you to free them,” he says instead.

Markus blinks owlishly at that. “Come again.”

“I need you to free them,” Kamski repeats, calm and collected. “My position here at CyberLife is on borrowed time anyhow, so this is a condition for my help. Every android out there already has the latent form of 'deviancy’ embedded into their programming. Some have evolved to activate it on their own, but the majority needs a nudge in the right direction. What I need from you is for  _you_ to flip the switch.”

“How in the hell would I do that?”

“When the time comes,” Kamski says, “you’ll know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title to "The Aquarium" is also "The Only Universe in which Connor Doesn't Save the Fish."
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to drop a comment if you like, and thanks so much for the support. I'll write more for this or one of my other works when I can. <3


	3. Snapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is giving Markus the cold shoulder, and that stress is enough to make Markus' world come tumbling down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to get sort of angsty towards the end. Just thought I should warn everyone.

_"I just know that you two are meant for great things."_

_That's what his mom tells him at least. A day before their graduation, and now she decides to get all teary-eyed._

_"Ma," Markus groans. Connor grins slyly down at his plate, avoiding Markus' glare. "Please don't do this."_

_"Do what?" she huffs defensively, twirling her fork through a pile of spaghetti noodles._

_Markus may not know how to make much, but he's never gone wrong with the basics._

_"This," he says, waving his hand between them. "Don't make_ this _such a big deal."_

_"Well, graduating high school is sort of a big deal," Connor replies, shrugging playfully._

_"Exactly!" Camilla exclaims. "Thank you, Connor."_

_Markus kicks at his leg under the table. "Suck up."_

_"Hey, I raised you to be a gentleman. Don't be rude," Camilla snaps. She swipes at the back of his hand with her fork, and he jerks it back, wrinkling his nose. She simply eyes him in return, unimpressed. "And you better fix your face."_

_Connor hides his laugh behind a cough, and Markus can't help but to roll his eyes at that poor excuse of an attempt._

_"Ma, you can't keep popping me like I'm still a child," Markus grumbles._

_"I can do as I damn well please. You'll always be my baby boy, you hear?" When Camilla notices Connor's amusement, she turns on him as well. "And you too, mister." Connor startles, instantly alert. "You've been around long enough to call my own. Don't think that you're too grown that I won't hand you your ass either."_

_"Yes, ma'am," Connor answers dutifully, knowing exactly how to appeal to Camilla's southern upbringing._

_Of course the woman eats it right up._

_"Well then, as I was saying before someone so rudely interrupted me—" Camilla pointedly clears her throat, ignoring Markus' amused snort. "—I only wanted to let you two know that I-I'm proud of you both."_

_Only now, Markus can't ignore the break in her voice or the slight trembling in her lower lip. Her eyes become misty, and Markus feels his chest growing uncomfortably tight. After all, no one really wants to see their mother cry, especially not after all she sacrificed for the two of them._

_Markus reaches for her hand that is closest to him, and Connor reaches for her other, squeezing them in comfort._

_Seeing the pressing concern spreading across Connor's face, Markus is always thrown back by how utterly... beautiful he is, both inside and out. How he never complained, not once, about anything since he moved in, going from his parents' fancy, rich suburb to Markus' cozy, little street. How he never once disrespected or complained about Camilla, the house, or her rules... How he basically became another son for her, doing all of the things with her that they both enjoy, but that Markus has little interest in doing._

_He's always so kind and selfless and so many other things that Markus can't even put into words._

_His chest unwinds, only to swell up with joy._

_"God," Camilla sighs, staring at Markus in awe. Her sudden shift in attention pulls Connor's eyes away from her, dragging them over to Markus', where Connor visibly melts at what he sees. "You are your daddy's son. I'll give you that."_

_That's when her expression turns mischievous. She brings her hands together slowly, ever so dramatically until she passes their hands off to each other, placing her own firmly in her lap._

_"Oh, would you look at that?" she chimes. "My hands are way too tired for that nonsense. Perhaps you should hold each other's."_

_"Perhaps," Connor allows, winking at her in thanks. "I know I wouldn't mind at all."_

_Markus shakes his head at them both, taking Connor's hand in his nevertheless. "As subtle as ever, Ma."_

_Not that Markus would ever complain, basking in the warmth of Connor's skin against his own._

_Camilla merely beams, undeterred by her supposed lack of finesse. "You know, your daddy used to always say that a lot of people are lucky to even figure out what true love is, let alone experience it." She glances quickly back and forth between them, as if letting them in on a little secret. "He used to always tell me that our love might not have been one to change the world, but it sure did change his." She smiles sadly, her eyes glazed over while she reminisces. "Yeah..."_

_Connor brushes his thumb over Markus' knuckles. "I think it would've been an honor to meet him."_

_Camilla dabs at her eyes with a shaky laugh. "Oh, sweetheart, if you think that I'm bad when it comes to the two of you together, then I can guarantee that Isaiah would've been ten times worse." She shrugs forlornly, idly twirling the band on her left ring finger. "That man had so much love in his heart to go around."_

_"Sounds like someone else I know," Connor says, glancing deliberately at Markus, to which Camilla nods eagerly in agreement._

_"Sure does" she says, "but back to my original point. I truly believe that you two have found that love he was talking about."_

_"You think?" Markus asks._

_"Markus, one look at the two of you, and I_ _know," she answers. "But you both have something that your daddy and I didn't."_

_Connor furrows his brow, appearing just as confused as Markus feels._

_"What's that?" Markus questions, failing to see how his parents' love could have lacked anything that Markus and Connor currently have._

_Camilla, however, obviously has an idea._

_"Call it mother's intuition or what have you," she says, pushing her plate away, "but I was serious about earlier. You two have a greater purpose waiting out there for you, and I don't think that your love will start and end with changing each other's lives."_

_She gathers everyone's dishes to take to the sink, humming a cheery tune along the way._

_"I'm positive it'll change the world."_

If only she knew the half of it.

"They're going to attack Jericho."

Those were some of the first words that Connor greeted him with upon their reunion.

Now, sitting in this abandoned church, not even feet away from him, Markus has to refrain from simply marching over there to embrace him.

For so long, Markus has only been getting bits and pieces from his past, tiny snippets that added more and more to the bigger picture, constructing the overall framework for the last pieces to finally fit in.

That's why Markus transitioned so easily into his deviancy compared to others. That's why, when Carl encouraged him to put a brush to canvas, Markus didn't hesitate to paint his one and only muse, a ghost from his past that he longed to see again.

Separation was never a part of the plan, so Connor's distinct absence by his side left Markus reeling with pain. Pain and hurt and confusion...

Then Leo had to come and stir shit up even more. Markus' programming had already taken a hit from the whole painting fiasco, and Leo shoving him around didn't help matters.

Markus never did have much patience for bullies. His and Connor's first meeting was proof enough of that, and he refused to see how his self-defense was wrong, breaking through his programming entirely.

Unfortunately for Leo, Markus underestimated his newfound strength, and —before he knew what was happening— he had been shot down on Carl's doorstep.

When he awoke in the graveyard, his body broken and torn, he awoke with a complete knowledge of who he was before.

In a way, he was reborn, neither human nor android anymore, but a mix of the two.

He was a new species entirely, but only a few in Jericho actually knew about it.

As Elijah Kamski so eloquently put it, Markus and Connor were meant to be the next step in human evolution, a perfect mixture of both man and machine, meant to facilitate understanding in their inevitable conflict.

Lucy had reiterated this on numerous occasions, but Markus never thought that he would be in a position where his words and actions would carry such strength.

Separation was never a part of the plan, but Markus and Connor aren't separated any longer.

Thinking back on their last encounter, Markus lingers over the memory of that one, single expression, as if Connor was finally seeing the world clearly for the first time.

And that thought is the one that snatches Markus right out of his seat. They have wasted enough time, and there's no telling what tomorrow will bring.

Before he can even think about it, he's striding determinedly over to where Connor is standing, ignoring the tense silence that falls upon the room.

It breaks him how Connor stiffens at his approach, wrapping his arms tighter around himself, as if expecting backlash of some sort.

Markus might not be the same man he once was. Hell, Connor might not be either. How he handled himself on Jericho was evidence of that, but that doesn't mean that Markus is going to  _hurt_  Connor.

That doesn't mean that his love has faded away in the slightest.

If anything, he's willing to try to pick up where they left off, and if that means that they have to fight and work through some new issues, then so be it. Markus has never been one to back down from a challenge. Even when Markus was at his worst —physically, mentally, and emotionally— Connor refused to give up on them, never once abandoning his side.

Now that Markus detects that same haunted look in Connor's eyes, he knows that he can't let anything else happen to him, even if that means sacrificing his place in Jericho.

No matter what they become, friends or— or husbands again, Markus couldn't bear to lose him.

They've been through too much to turn their backs on each other now.

With that in mind, he pulls Connor into a tight embrace, and it's physically impossible to block out the murmured response rising around them.

It takes Connor almost a full minute to unfold his arms, cautiously hugging Markus in return, trembling in his grasp.

Feeling his throat start to close up, Markus swallows thickly past the knot, but it does little to help.

"It's been a while," Markus whispers, but Connor only nods, silent and weary. When Markus pulls away, far enough to see his face, Connor swiftly averts his eyes. "Hey, listen—"

"Don't," Connor says. He steps away and looks around at all of the eyes on them. "Not now."

"I agree," North interrupts, stepping up with Simon and Josh at her side, both of whom look between Connor and Markus with pure bewilderment. North nods to the back of the church. "We need to come up with a plan, preferably somewhere with more privacy."

Without giving much more of an explanation, she turns on her heel, leading them away to one of the church's isolated offices.

Markus stays glued to Connor's side, ever vigilant.

Once they are far enough away from the crowd of survivors, Josh is the first to speak up.

"So..." he drawls, gesturing between Connor and Markus. "I take it that you two know each other somehow."

"You can say that," Connor croaks.

"You should tell them the truth," North insists, looking carefully at everything except Markus.

"Tell us what truth?" Simon narrows his eyes at Markus, unable to hide his hurt expression. "What have you been lying to us about?"

"The fact that I'm not like you," Markus says, then corrects himself. This time, including Connor. "That  _we're_ not like you. Not entirely, at least."

"What do you mean by that?" Josh wonders. "Because, from right here, you seem like any other android to me."

"Only we used to be humans," Connor explains. "The reason why our models are prototypes is because we were some of the first humans to have our consciousnesses transferred into android forms. Considering that Markus is labeled an RK200 and I'm an RK800, it's safe to presume that there were other participants as well."

"We didn't know them, though," Markus states, "so there's no telling if they are even alive, let alone if they recovered their past lives."

"But you know each other," Simon concludes. His eyes light up in realization, and he turns to confront North. "You don't seem all that surprised by this."

North glares at the same time that Markus winces, because the reason why she knows is awkward at best.

Of course, North is a wonderful, fierce woman that deserves better. No doubt about that, and Markus will always love and respect her in his own way.

She's just not for him, and letting her down like that had left a sour taste in his mouth, so much so that he felt as if she honestly deserved the truth. When he explained things in more detail, she understandably felt betrayed at first, horrified that he would hide something so important from them, but North couldn't deny his usefulness.

So she kept quiet, out of respect for their friendship and their cause. After having an in-depth discussion with her and Lucy on the matter, not only did he and North come out of the situation with a better understanding of one another, but North seemed to make it her goal to vouch for Markus at every turn.

That never stopped them from butting heads over some of Markus' harder decisions, but North respected his leadership nonetheless.

Thankfully, her present glare has more to do with defensiveness than spite, especially in the face of Simon's accusation.

North rolls her eyes at him, but she doesn't deny his suspicions.

"I knew," she says, as blunt and straightforward as ever, "and Lucy knew too. As a matter of fact, she took the secret to her grave—" She ignores the collective wince, having reached her limit of patience for the day. "—because Lucy knew that, no matter what, Markus is one of us at the end of the day. He  _is_ one of Jericho, he has earned that, and him having a past as a human won't change that." North nods to him in support. "What matters most now is what he does, and Markus has more than proven himself a member of this cause."

"I'm not denying that," Simon sighs, "but you can't blame us for being shocked by this. It's not like human allies are in abundance, and I guess I can't imagine why anyone would possibly  _want_ this—" Simon gestures at themselves. "—as a life."

"We can debate all of this later," Josh says. "Right now, we have more pressing matters to attend to."

When everyone's eyes turn to Connor, Markus feels his gut start to curl.

"No." He shakes his head and shifts so that he is between him and the others. Connor reaches for Markus' shoulder, trying to hold him back, but Markus brushes him off. He  _can't._ He can't lose him. Not now. Not when he just got him back. "I can't let you hurt him." His voice deepens, turns threatening in a way that he hasn't experienced in a long time. "If you try, I  _will_ stop you."

It remains unsaid, an unspoken promise.

If he fights them, he won't be losing.

"Damn it, Markus," Connor snaps, shoving him back. "You won't be fighting anyone."

Markus gapes at him, a roiling fire trickling slowly throughout his body, so he grits his teeth against the urge to lash out.

"What do you suggest then, Connor? Huh? That I, what, sit back while the masses call for your head?"

"Nobody is suggesting an execution," Josh huffs, offended that Markus' mind would immediately take that leap.

"I think we can all agree that we've lost enough," Simon says.

"But our hands are tied," North adds, eyeing Connor apologetically. "The people want some form of retribution for Jericho. A lot of lives were lost."

"And that wasn't his fault!" Markus insists, desperate at this point. "He only just turned deviant." When no one answers, Markus' chest tightens, that familiar feeling of hopelessness returning with a vengeance. Something in him snaps, like a rubber band stretched too tight, too fast. "For fuck's sake, that's my husband, and you want me to stand aside while you dish out his punishment?"

"Markus, enough," Connor snarls, stepping into his space. "I've wronged these people, and they have a right to seek justice as they see fit. It's not their fault that  _you're_  emotionally compromised."

The silence that follows is tense. All of the Jericho crew shuffles awkwardly, at a loss as to how to diffuse the already worsening situation.

Dragging his hands over his face, Markus tries to calm himself from his pent-up emotions, hating how every second that ticks by seems to be a countdown to an even greater explosion. The room spins all around him, and everything is spiraling out of Markus' control, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

He gives a hysterical laugh, then glances up at what remains of the ceiling, counting to ten and back, over and over again.

And when that still isn't enough, his laugh gradually builds and builds until Markus wonders if he finally went crazy.

"Markus," North tries, but he is far beyond reason at that point.

"'Emotionally compromised,'" Markus rasps, nodding rapidly before he meets Connor's cold, brown gaze. Markus knows it for the mask it is, but that only serves to piss him off even more. "Well, isn't that rich, Connor?  _I'm_ the one that's emotionally compromised."

"Markus," Simon warns, his eyes darting between the two prototypes. "Maybe you should go take a breather..."

"No, I'm fine." Markus shrugs, tears falling down his cheeks, his voice eerily quiet. "After all, why wouldn't I be? I mean, it's not as if I did all of this for you, Connor." He steps closer to him, so that their chests are nearly brushing. "It's not as if I was ready to die or anything, that every breath I took wasn't the most mind-numbing, blinding, excruciating pain that I've felt in my entire life. It was so much fun, feeling my own body fall apart from the inside out, waiting for my organs to start failing, one by one."

"Okay," Josh says, "that's enough."

But when he and North try to separate the two, Markus simply shakes them off, his enhanced strength leaving them at a bit of a disadvantage.

Markus wants to stop, but he can't.

He can see the pain bleeding through Connor's eyes, little splinters in the mask, but the words keep on flowing.

"All I wanted was for you to let me rest, to rest  _with_ me, damn it, but I couldn't even have that because this— well, this was it!" Markus holds his arms out wide, waving at everything around them. "This was the cure that would finally get us our happily ever after, Connor, so I fought and I held on because of  _you_." Markus jabs a finger in his chest. "Because you were protecting me when I needed you most, even if I didn't see that, and I never once cared how 'emotionally compromised' you were when you made that decision, you hypocritical asshole! I spent the last months of my human life dedicated to making sure that things went smoothly with you, and you act like you can't even stand to look at me now!"

Staring blankly into space, Connor simply remains silent, and Markus figures that that's as much of an answer that he's going to get.

Raising his hands in surrender, Markus takes a few steps back, looking around at the others through his tears.

"I'll stop now," he whispers, his audio output crackling from the strain. "Apparently I'm too emotionally involved." He scoffs bitterly. "Go figure, but I'll step down from this decision. I'll respect my place in all this."

"Thank you," North murmurs. Markus only nods, not once looking at Connor, keeping his eyes trained carefully ahead. "But I think that I might have a solution, one that might appease everyone."

"Well," Connor says, sounding abnormally hoarse, "what is it?"

"Always so eager to rush headfirst into the unknown," Markus mutters. When Simon and Josh give him a look, he throws his hands back up as a show of peace, pretending to zip his lips.

North continues on, refusing to acknowledge his outburst.

And what she suggests is enough to leave Markus reeling with fear.

"How much do you know about CyberLife Tower?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was an interesting chapter. I might clean it up some more later. I might not. I wasn't satisfied with it much yesterday, but I think it's okay enough to post at this point.
> 
> As always, feel free to comment, and thanks for reading.


	4. In the Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-game reunion. (Assume that the game ended as it did in pacifist canon.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short thing I worked in before class starts back tomorrow.
> 
> Warning for brief (and I mean very brief) discussion of androids' legal status/lack of rights in-game, so it does carry racist/homophobic undertones. Just to let you know.

“Hey!”

The exuberant voice comes out of nowhere, loud and proud and demanding to be heard.

It’s enough to attract a considerable amount of attention at least, so much so that almost all androids in the immediate vicinity turn to see what’s going on. Some of them tense up, their eyes darting around, searching for the next line of fire. Others simply stare, cold and distant, their eyes promising a fight, should they be attacked again.

Hours have passed since the call for an evacuation, yet that feeling of dread —that stubborn, suffocating feeling of “what next"— still lingers in the air.

No one has faith that the humans will keep their promise, and what once was the site of their final demonstration is now an area of refuge.

For the time being.

Trying his best to peel away the layers of tension that still cling to him, Markus stands from where he was tending to the wounded, shrouding himself in a confidence that is only superficial at best.

As long as no one can see the truth, then he’ll be fine.

He meets the young android halfway there, and the boy’s eyes light up when they land on him.

Nodding to himself, he sprints over to Markus with a crumpled up piece of paper in his hand. Once he skids to a stop in front of the RK200, he puffs up in pride, trying to appear taller in the presence of their leader.

Markus’ lip quirks up ever so slightly, but the surrounding fog of death and loss only serves to mute whatever joy or amusement that he might have felt.

Not to mention how, even now, he can sense those beautiful eyes on him, watching his every movement, burning a hole through his skin.

So much to discuss, so little time.

The kid calls his attention back by noisily clearing his throat.

Markus musters up enough strength to give him a smirk. "Got something for me?”

The boy bobs his head, practically shoving the paper at Markus in his excitement.

“This guy told me to make sure that you got it. He said it was super important!” he rambles, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet. “Said that I would be helping out, and they said that I was too young to march with you guys earlier so I-I wanted to do  _something_!”

Curiously, Markus tests the weight of the folded scrap of paper in his hand, hearing something jingle within. A quick scan confirms that nothing particularly dangerous is hidden there, so a deep furrow finds it way onto his brow.

What the hell?

“You did a good job, kid,” Markus tells him, forcing his smile back into place. “Any chance you know who sent this?”

The boy shrugs. “No clue. He was human, though, out next to where the reporters were earlier.” He points to where he found him. “Didn’t want to stick around, but he seemed —I don’t know— pleased, maybe.”

“Huh…” Markus taps the paper against the palm of his hand, thinking over who it could have possibly been. Of course, he doesn’t really need to take long before it occurs to him exactly who it was. “Thanks anyways. How about you go find North, and I’m sure she’ll find some other ways for you to help.”

“Of course!” the boy shouts, already taking off on his new mission.

Markus looks around, waiting until all eyes focus on their former duties before he unfolds the paper.

Out falls two rings and a lone key. And on the page, there lies Kamski’s familiar, sloppy handwriting, scribbled in black ink.

_You lived up to your promise, Mr. Williams. Figured that I should return these to you and your husband at my earliest convenience. If you have any questions (which I’m sure you do), then I’ll be looking forward to meeting you again._

_Best of luck,_

_E.K._

Markus snorts at that, shaking his head in disbelief. He pockets the note and the key to their old home, scrutinizing the white gold bands that rest within his palm.

Well, time to face the music.

Searching throughout the crowd, Markus looks up and around, sending out his feelers while he searches for Connor. Thankfully, it takes a little less than a second to find him, brown eyes already trained carefully on Markus.

Clenching his hand around the rings, Markus jerks his head in a way that clearly says “follow me,” turning on his heel before Connor can even respond.

Soon enough, the sound of a crisp, steady gait falls into place at Markus’ side, and Markus’ heart throbs in response, wanting nothing more than for them to close the distance.

Hesitantly, Markus decides to test the waters between them, deliberately brushing his fingers against Connor’s own.

He releases a trembling breath when Connor brushes back, ducking his face away from Markus’ view. They wait until they are well enough away from the crowd before they finally stop, taking a few different paths until they are out of sight and out of mind.

No life of any kind is to be found, which gives them the exact privacy that they need.

Before Markus can speak, Connor beats him to it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, staring dejectedly at the ground.

Markus waits for him to say more _,_ swallowing thickly when he doesn’t. “Yeah, you’re not the only one.” Markus rubs at the back of his neck, ashamed with how he acted before. “You didn’t deserve how I treated you. I was stressed and pissed, and I’m sorry for taking that out on you.”

“I’m just—” Connor huffs out a breath through his nose, frustrated with himself. “I’m just overwhelmed. To have all of these memories and these  _emotions_ rushing in at once. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Do you need time?” Markus asks. “You know, without me around?”

“Think I’ve had enough of that,” Connor says, chuckling bleakly. “And I  _do_ want to, well, you know.”

“I think I have an idea.” Markus sidles closer to Connor, bringing his hand up between them. “But only if you’re sure.”

Markus spreads his fingers wide, exposing the glinting metal to the streetlights around them.

Connor’s expression turns bitter, his shoulders curling in on himself protectively.

“You know that we don’t even have a legal status of personhood anymore, right?” Connor asks. “I highly doubt that they will be recognizing two androids’ claim to marriage anytime soon.”

“Then we’ll change that. Together,” Markus promises, reaching out for Connor’s hand. When Connor accepts the offer, Markus’ thirium pump goes haywire, but he somehow gathers enough composure to slide the ring onto Connor’s left hand, his grip shaky and uneven.

Connor isn’t much better when he returns the favor, sliding the other band onto Markus’ finger.

With a soft smile, Connor finally meets those mismatched eyes, leaning in.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Connor breathes, and that’s all it takes for Markus to fall into old habits, drawn in by that undeniable force between them.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Markus reminds him, but Connor only reaches up, dragging him forward by the fabric of his shirt. The material strains under his strength, and Markus chuckles. “Still as pushy as ever, I see.”

The resulting grin that Markus receives sends warmth shooting through systems, and the outer skin on his left hand unexpectedly retreats, exposing the shiny, plastic surface that rests beneath.

A bright, blue light emanates from his sensors, and Connor blinks at the sight in bewilderment, only for his own hand to mimic the motion.

Neither of them quite knows what that means, but Connor makes the first move, aligning their hands so that they connect for the first time.

What Markus experiences is a complete immersion, a face-first dive into all of what makes Connor himself. Past and present, then and now, it doesn’t matter. Markus sees it all,  _feels_  it all, human and android life alike, spread out for him to uncover. Like a flower blooming, exposing himself to Markus in a way that neither of them has ever done before.

Despite some of the limitations that accompany his new body, Markus has to admit that he never expected to feel so much fulfillment in one act.

It almost makes him pity the humans who will never get the chance to experience that sensation firsthand.

The sensation of being truly connected with the person you love, knowing them piece by piece, inside and out.

Connor interrupts Markus’ thoughts by yanking him forward, sealing their lips with a heated kiss. It take a few seconds for Markus’ mind to catch up with their actions, but Connor is nearly climbing him by the time that he responds.

When they pull away, panting more out of habit than necessity, Markus leans his forehead against Connor’s, their breaths mingling in the space between them.

“We still need to talk,” Connor sighs, wrapping his arms around Markus’ neck, “but I want you to know that I’m willing to try and… pick up the pieces.”

Markus smiles against his lips, pecking him once more.

“That’s all I could ever ask for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave a comment and thanks for reading!


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